


Under Pressure

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [12]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackmail, Bond's Breaking and Entering Again, Canon Character of Color, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M is Sexy as Hell, Older Woman/Younger Man, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M's being blackmailed and Bond sets out to save her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the bondkink comm on LJ. The prompt was _Craig!Bond/Dench!M, saving M from blackmail_  
>  I elected to make it a Skyfall AU - because of reasons...  
> Spoilers: Skyfall but not really.  
> Disclaimer: If it was mine, Craig!Bond/Dench!M would be absolute canon.

James Bond stared at his boss, wondering uneasily what was troubling her. This was the first time he'd seen her since his final debriefing following a mission he'd completed ten days ago, and he'd been startled to see that she looked drawn and weary. There were shadows under her eyes as if she hadn't been getting enough sleep, and those blue eyes lacked their usual fire. She had dressed with her usual care and elegance, he noted, but her clothes were sitting on her oddly, and he abruptly realised she'd lost weight. Was she ill?

To make matters worse, during the conversation they'd just had, she had twice failed to take him to task about his shortcomings in her usual manner, and M neglecting the opportunity to remind him of his failings was completely uncharacteristic.

Since he was not a man given to much subtlety, as even his friends would acknowledge (which was something M had pointed out more than once in the past), he now bluntly asked, "What's wrong?"

She looked across at him from her computer and he noted that it wasn't the usual sort of sharp look which he was accustomed to receiving from M.

"I can't find the report I wanted to show you," she said.

Bond shook his head. "No, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me, 007," she said with an effort at her usual dismissive tone.

He snorted disbelievingly and she gave him an offended look. "Excuse me for saying so, ma'am, but you're a terrible liar."

"I don't excuse you," she said instantly, with something of her usual fire. "Go and see Mr Tanner and ask him to show you the Blue Mountain Report. Come back and see me tomorrow once you've mastered the contents."

"Yes ma'am." Bond got to his feet and made his way out of M's inner sanctum, into the outer office where both Bill Tanner, M's Chief of Staff, and Eve Moneypenny, her PA, worked.

Bond crossed to Tanner's desk and said quietly, "M wants you to give me the Blue Mountain Report."

The younger man looked startled. "I left a hard copy of that report on her desk about twenty minutes before your meeting began."

Bond gave him a worried look, then sank down into the spare chair beside Tanner's desk. "She was looking for it on her computer," he said.

Tanner shook his head. "That's the second time this week. I'm starting to get worried."

The agent rubbed a hand over his face, then turned towards Eve. "Is she sick, do you know?"

Eve shook her head. "I've no idea. She hasn't been looking well for more than a week, but I put that down to a lack of sleep."

"She's clearly got something other than work on her mind," Bond observed. "I wonder if I can get anything out of the MO?"

"If she finds out you've been asking," Tanner said warningly.

"She'll kick my arse," Bond said. "And I'll let her." He took the file Tanner was holding, then nodded to his colleagues. "Pig and Whistle, six thirty?" He glanced from Tanner to Eve and got two nods of agreement, then pushed to his feet. He took the file to his own office, where he locked it away securely, then headed downstairs to the Infirmary and the MO's office. 

He found the Medical Officer in her own office reading a thick journal written in Russian. He blinked slightly, then gave the doctor his best smile.

"Well, well, if it isn't 007," she said dryly. "And apparently all in one piece for once. That's a turn up for the books."

Bond perched himself on the corner of her desk. "Hello Penelope. Have you missed me?"

"Missed digging bullets out of you, stitching you up, and generally trying to keep you functioning?" she asked, one perfectly-plucked eyebrow raised above her bright green eyes.

"Admit it, Penny, you love getting your hands on my body." Bond grinned down at her, and saw amusement lurking in her expression.

She snorted. "Of course I do, 007. Now what can I do for you since you don't appear to need any medical assistance for yourself?"

"Have you seen M lately?" He tried to make the question sound casual, but she gave him a sharp look.

"Not since her annual physical two months ago. Why?"

"Did you find anything worrying?"

"You know I can't answer that, James. It's wholly confidential."

He sighed. "I know, I know."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I'm worried about her, and so are Bill and Eve. She looks as if she hasn't slept properly for at least a week, she'd apparently forgotten that Bill had given her a file she needed me to read, and she seems to have lost some weight."

"Those are all classic symptoms of stress," Penny told him. "And honestly, if I had M's job, I'd be stressed too."

"Yes, but that's just it. M doesn't get stressed – not over the day-to-day running of Six. Up until now she's always seemed to thrive on whatever the job throws at her."

Penny gave him a thoughtful look. "That's true," she conceded. "All I can suggest is that something outside of work must be triggering the stress."

Bond nodded. "That's what worries me. The chances of getting her to tell me are tiny."

Penny nodded too. "A lifetime in the Service does tend to make people very secretive, even with their own colleagues."

"Yeah." Bond slipped off the corner of the desk, then bent his head to give her a quick kiss on the mouth, which earned him a protesting mutter of "James, honestly", and a light shove.

He chuckled as he sauntered out, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, but he felt far from light-hearted as he made his way back upstairs to his own office.

007-007-007

Tanner and Moneypenny arrived at the Pig and Whistle together, a few minutes after six thirty, and found Bond already ensconced at a corner table where he could watch the door but no one could get behind him. They both waved and Tanner gestured to show he was going to the bar for their drinks, while Moneypenny walked across to join him.

He watched her cross the room with an appreciative smile: Eve Moneypenny was nearly as tall as Bond himself, lean-limbed, and lithe as a panther. He felt a stirring of lust as she approached and he wondered if he'd get the chance to take her to bed: he had a feeling she'd be a fantastic sex partner.

Something of his desire must have shown in his face because she smirked at him as she slid into the chair beside him. "Down, boy."

He laughed, pleased that she seemed more amused than offended by his obvious attraction. They made small-talk while they waited for Tanner to join them, which he did shortly afterwards.

"Did you get anywhere with Dr Phillips?" Eve asked.

Bond shook his head. "Not really. She did say that M's showing all the classic symptoms of stress, but I'm pretty sure that it's nothing work-related that causing the stress."

"So what are we going to do?" asked Tanner. "She won't talk to me, I'm quite sure."

"She practically bit my head off when I asked her what was wrong this afternoon," Bond said.

Eve sighed. "All right, I'll see if she'll respond to the womanly touch."

Bond tilted his head and eyed her in an overt manner. "Perhaps you should practice your womanly touch, first?" he suggested.

Eve snorted when Tanner almost choked on a mouthful of his beer. 

"God, James, you are _so_ obvious," protested Eve.

He leered at her. "But you love me anyway," he said.

"Please!" protested Tanner. "If you're going to start practising your chat up lines on Eve, I'll go home."

"Aw, poor Bill," teased Bond. "Are you feeling left out?" He noted that Tanner had gone pink, and wondered if the other man fancied Eve himself. Not that he could blame him – she was very attractive, even buttoned up in a business-like two-piece suit – it was the way she contrived to look exotic even in civilian dress, he decided.

"Not at all," Tanner said with an attempt at wounded dignity. "I've just heard all your chat up lines before."

Eve's head tilted as she looked from Bond to Tanner and back again. "Now that sounds very intriguing."

Bond laughed, and Tanner swatted him on the arm. "For god's sake, James, stop it."

The agent slung his arm around his friend's shoulders. "You're so easy, Bill."

Eve snorted again, one hand pressed firmly over her mouth as her shoulders shook with laughter.

"And you're so full of innuendo," Tanner said, wriggling free of Bond's embrace. He got to his feet, straightened his suit jacket with a tug at the bottom, then headed towards the gents.

"So, how about it, Miss Moneypenny? Fancy dinner with me tonight?" 

She gave him a speculative look and he did his best not to preen. "All right."

He gave her a grin and wondered how soon they could leave.

Tanner returned, and Bond wasn't surprised that he soon made an excuse to leave his colleagues to it.

"Shall we?" Bond asked Eve after they'd made their farewells to Tanner.

"You realise I have very high expectations, Mr Bond? After all, I'm very _au fait_ with your reputation."

"My darling Eve, I promise you won't be disappointed." 

She chuckled, then allowed him to take her arm to steer her out of the pub and into a taxi which had just dropped its fare.

"What are we going to do if M won't tell me what's on her mind?" asked Eve as the taxi pulled away.

"I'll think of something," Bond promised, "but let's not talk about the boss now, okay?" He slid an arm around her shoulders, then leaned in to nuzzle the side of her neck.

"Mmm, okay." 

He noted the dreamy note in her voice and just managed not to smirk in triumph.

007-007-007

The next day Bond was walking with a swagger which everyone who knew him correctly interpreted as meaning he'd 'got his girl', though only Bill Tanner knew the girl in question was Eve Moneypenny since she was far too discreet to let on. Even when Bill asked her in a quiet undertone, "Nice evening?", she only smiled and said, "Oh yes" in a dreamy sort of voice. There were no references to the fact that she and James had barely made it inside the front door of his flat before she found herself being fucked up against the wall, or that they'd left a trail of clothing from there to the bedroom before he'd taken her again bent over his luxurious bed. Nor was there any mention of the fact that they'd barely slept because she'd been nearly as insatiable as James himself. Thankfully, by the time she did arrive at work, Eve was able to walk properly, although the memory of Bond's frankly enormous cock made her wet all over again. She had to force her mind back onto work but a summons from M before she'd been in the office barely five minutes quickly helped her to focus again.

M seemed more her usual efficient self this morning, so Eve refrained from enquiring about what was troubling her boss, and concentrated instead on writing rapid notes as M talked. She headed back to her desk after M's briefing and was half way through her allotted tasks when Bond turned up, carrying the report from yesterday, and looking like the cat who'd broken into the dairy and made it his own.

"Try not to be too obviously smug," Eve hissed at him as he bent over her desk and kissed her full on the mouth.

"Darling Eve," he teased. He leaned in for a second kiss, but she grabbed his shoulder and held him off.

"James!" she said sternly.

He pouted, exactly like a spoilt boy, then straightened up as the intercom on Eve's desk beeped. 

"Send Bond in at once, please, Miss Moneypenny."

"I never know how she does that," Eve said, _sotto voce_.

He shook his head, then moved across to M's door, giving a brisk rap on the woodwork before going inside.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Eve," Tanner said as he came back from the coffee machine with two cups of coffee for them.

"I do," she assured him brightly.

"Hmm."

007-007-007

Bond also noted that M was more her usual self this morning, briefing him with her customary thoroughness and occasional barbed asides. 

"I'll see you again in three days, before you fly out to Japan," she told him at the end.

"Yes, ma'am." He got to his feet and gave her a nod, then let himself out of the office.

He headed straight down to Q-Branch, where he engaged Q in his customary teasing, pretending to be unimpressed with the young man, and flirting with all the girls, who either blushed and giggled, or hurried out of his way with anxious expressions. He was feeling quite pleased with himself when he went back upstairs to his own office, his pockets heavier by a couple of useful gadgets which no one had noticed him purloining, despite the fact that he'd apparently been the centre of everyone's attention during his visit.

He had lunch with Eve and Bill, although Tanner made a couple of pointed remarks about his two friends needing to 'get a room'.

"Don't need to get a room, Bill, I've got an entire flat," Bond said cheerily, which made Eve laugh and Bill groan in disgust.

"Did you decide what you're going to do next about finding out what's troubling M?" Bill asked later as they were finishing their lunch.

"I did."

"What?" asked Eve.

"I think it's best if I don't tell you, actually," Bond said. "Plausible deniability is probably your best protection."

Eve looked intrigued, but Bill looked worried. "I do hope you're not going to do anything rash, 007."

"Now you sound just like M," Bond observed with a curl of his lips that was perilously close to a sneer.

"Fine, fine!" Tanner threw his hands up. "Just don't come crying to me if you get into trouble."

"I won't," Bond assured him confidently.

Tanner left before Eve and Bond, and she immediately demanded to know what he was planning.

"Darling Eve, I'm not going to tell you. It's much safer if you don't know."

She pouted, and he leaned in to capture her bottom lip in his teeth, before kissing her thoroughly.

"James!"

"What?" he asked, adopting an air of innocence.

"You're a rogue."

He smirked. "Yes, but you knew that already." He patted her bottom as he followed her out of the pub and she smacked his arm away.

"Don't do that. It's not fair of you to get me all wound up and then leave me hanging."

"I'll make it up to you tonight," he promised.

"You'd better, Mister, or I'll make you very sorry."

His eyebrows lifted and he leered at her, then gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "See you at seven?" She nodded, then strode off. He watched her go for the pleasure of seeing her move, then he strolled off towards the nearest Tube station, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets.


	2. Chapter 2

Bond made his way to M's flat and carefully let himself in. He knew that M wouldn't be home for hours, but he still didn't want to attract undue attention to his visit, not when what he was doing wasn't strictly legal. But he reasoned that it was done with the best of intentions, to find out just what was troubling M, so that he could help her if at all possible. The fact that she might not want his help didn't even enter his head: she was the single most important person in his life, and looking after her well-being was vitally important to him.

He headed to her study and began a systematic search through her paperwork, looking for some clue as to what had happened within the last two weeks to cause her so much stress. Finding nothing in her correspondence, he checked the laptop she used when working at home, but he drew a blank there, too. Finally he turned to the telephone and the digital answering machine that she had for personal use. He took from his pocket one of the gadgets which he'd borrowed from Q-Branch earlier in the day and connected it to the telephone. Here he struck lucky. M had received a message a few days ago from a man with a Spanish accent who was insistent that they should meet soon 'to discuss that package I mentioned before'. Q's very nifty gadget was able to trace the caller's location, although not the number from which he'd called because that had been withheld, but Bond made a note of the address, recalling that it was a very discreet hotel near Paddington Station. Before he let himself back out of M's flat, he left a tiny bug in the phone, then he made his way back downstairs and headed back to the Underground and on to Paddington. 

Bond slipped into the hotel lobby and made himself comfortable behind a copy of _The Times_. He was prepared to wait all afternoon, if necessary, although he was fortunate to only wait forty-five minutes before the voice he'd heard on the answering machine reached his ears from the front desk. Bond remained where he was sitting, resisting the temptation to lower his newspaper and catch sight of his quarry. He heard the girl at the desk referring to the man as 'Mr Silva', then heard the man's voice again by the doors as he spoke to the doorman and asked for a taxi. Bond unhurriedly folded up his newspaper, then tucked it under his arm as he strolled across the lobby. He reached the doors just as a man with dyed blond hair and wearing a beige jacket climbed into a black cab. Bond set off in the opposite direction and picked up a taxi of his own half a street away; he was headed back to the office where he intended to persuade Q, or one of his team, to do a little judicious information retrieval for him.

By the time Eve arrived at his flat at seven o'clock Bond had acquired as much information about one Mr Silva of the Mercure Hotel as one of Q's assistants had been able to dig up during the thirty minutes that Q was upstairs in a meeting with Bill Tanner. He had every intention of paying the man a visit the following day, but tonight he intended to concentrate his full attention on the rather lovely Miss Moneypenny.

007-007-007

Bond went to see Silva the following evening. He knocked on the door of the other man's suite at eight thirty, and the door was opened promptly, as if Silva was expecting him. The Spaniard frowned at the sight of Bond in his doorway. 

"Mr Raoul Silva?" Bond asked.

The man nodded. "But you are not room service," he observed, sounding puzzled.

"No, I'm not. I'm here to talk to you about a mutual acquaintance."

The man's puzzlement switched to suspicion and wariness instantly. "And who might this acquaintance be?"

"Marion Mawdsley."

"You'd better come in," Silva said. He stepped back, opening the door wider, and Bond strolled in as casually as he could, but he was taking in everything within the suite.

"Drink, Mr – ?" 

"Bond, James Bond. And no, thank you all the same, Mr Silva. I'll come straight to the point."

The other man's mouth twisted in a moue of distaste. "You English," he said. "You are so cold and inhospitable." Bond raised an eyebrow, and stared at the Spaniard in silence, who made an irritable gesture. "Very well, speak."

"Whatever you think you've got on our mutual acquaintance, you can forget using it as leverage against her. It won't work."

Silva gave a disbelieving laugh. "My dear Mr Bond, are you threatening me?"

"No, Mr Silva, I'm warning you. There's a difference. If you hand the package over to me now, I won't say anything to Special Branch or MI5 about your attempts to blackmail a senior civil servant."

Silva laughed again, sounding delighted this time, and even went so far as to clap his hands. "A senior civil servant. Why don't you say 'the head of the MI6', Mr Bond?" He looked Bond up and down, and 007 made himself to repress a shudder of revulsion at the frankly lascivious expression on Silva's face.

"Did she send you? Are you one of her lovely little boys." Silva reached out, as if to caress Bond's face, but the agent took a step backwards. 

"Is that relevant?" Bond asked.

"Do you know what she did?" Silva whirled away from Bond and hurried to the table beneath the window. He scooped something up, then hurried back. "Look, look at what your precious head of MI6 did. She was such a bad, bad girl."

Bond found himself with a handful of glossy photographs. He stared down at them, and it took him a moment to recognise that the young woman portrayed in the first one was M as she had been in her twenties. She was lying naked on a beach, with a very well endowed young man straddling her thighs. In the next photo the pair had been joined by a third figure and it took Bond a moment to realise that it was another young woman since she had a very boyish figure. The third photograph showed the three of them engaged in a sexual act, with M at the centre. There were three more photographs of a similar nature. 

Bond looked up at Silva and was dismayed to see the other man was stroking himself through the material of his trousers. 

"Isn't she a luscious little beauty?" Silva asked, his expression lustful.

Privately, Bond couldn't help agreeing, but he kept his expression and tone of voice strictly neutral as he asked, "How did you know who it was in these photos?"

"My dear Mr Bond, or can I call you James? Such a delightfully strong name for such a delightfully strong man." Silva leered and Bond suppressed a shudder of distaste.

"The photos?" he asked.

Silva pouted, obviously disappointed by Bond's lack of interest. "The photographer was a lover of mine. He told me that our Marion was a voracious little slut who'd fuck with multiple partners, male and female, whenever the chance arose. When he showed me the photos, I recognised her – she hadn't changed that much in the intervening thirty years."

Bond frowned, aware that there was something Silva wasn't telling him. "And how do you know her?" He rather suspected he knew the answer, but he waited for Silva to confirm it.

"I used to be one of your little gang, my dear James. I was a Double-0 agent under Marion, back when she was head of Station H." He giggled.

"But you're not in the service now?" Bond asked, certain in his own mind that Silva couldn't still be part of that elite, or he'd have heard of him before now.

Silva scowled. "No. The little bitch screwed me over. Said I'd become too much of a liability in the run up to the handover, and she withdrew my licence. Then six months later she had me drummed out of the Service. The Chinese arrested me and tried me on a number of trumped up charges, before throwing me in prison. The little bitch is going to pay for that, and pay good, or I'll post these photos all over the internet."

He suddenly lunged at Bond, trying to snatch the photos which Bond still held. The latter pivoted on his heel, yanking them out of Silva's reach as he brought his other elbow up hard, smashing it into Silva's face. The Spaniard gave a muffled yell of rage and pain, then flung himself at Bond. 007 managed to twist out of the other man's grasp, his reflexes faster and his body fitter than Silva's, whom he judged to be carrying several extra kilos.

Silva fell with a crash, hitting his head hard on the dressing table as he went down. Bond bent over him and checked his pulse, and finding that he was still alive, Bond gathered up the scattered photographs and set them on the table in front of the window. He began a systematic search of Silva's belongings in the hope of finding the negatives as well, hoping that Silva hadn't opted to use the hotel safe. He had only checked one of the cases when someone knocked on the door to the suite, and Bond belatedly remembered that when he'd arrived, Silva had been waiting for Room Service. He looked over at the door, trying to remember whether Silva had locked it after he'd let Bond in.

Bond stood silent, waiting with bated breath, as the knock was repeated. Then the handle started to turn and he clenched his fists, desperately willing whoever was on the other side to go away.

"Sir? It's Room Service, as you requested." The young man knocked again, then silence fell.

Bond waited three minutes before moving softly across the room and peering out through the spy hole in the door: the corridor was empty. He exhaled silently, then resumed his search of Silva's possessions.

He finally found the negatives in a plastic wallet in Silva's toiletries bag in the ensuite bathroom. The wallet was held by an elastic band between a tube of lube and a box of condoms. Bond extracted it, checked all six negatives were there, then returned to the bedroom. He took an envelope from the collection of hotel stationery in a drawer of the table and slipped the photos inside, then added the wallet of negatives.

Bond had put the envelope into his inside jacket pocket and was beginning to turn towards the door when a breath of air stirred against the back of his neck. He flung up his right arm, then bit back a cry of pain as a dagger was plunged into his flesh, then wrenched back out again. Bond scarcely had time to regret that Silva hadn't hit his head a good deal harder before the other man engaged him in a furious struggle. Although Bond was fitter and lighter on his feet than Silva, it soon became apparent from the stream of obscenities and complaints that poured into his ears that the other man had lost control of his reason. This lent him a desperate strength and since Bond's right arm was bleeding heavily and gradually growing weaker, the two men were more evenly matched than they'd been before.

Bond groped feverishly in his jacket pocket with his left hand and found the syringe he'd prepared earlier and stowed away before he'd left Six. He had hoped he wouldn't need to use it as there was a risk someone would realise that Silva's death wasn't natural, but he now felt he had no choice. He wrenched the protective cover off with his teeth, then twisted in Silva's grasp, and plunged the needle into the other man's heart.

A few moments later Bond lowered Silva's body to the carpet, then stepped over to the window. He was relieved to see there was a sturdy-looking fire escape a few feet away. He opened the window carefully, then climbed out and across to the fire escape, down which he was forced to move more slowly than he'd have liked since his arm was still bleeding heavily. He thanked his lucky stars that the blood had so far been absorbed by the sleeves of his shirt and jacket, which meant he hadn't left any bloodstains in Silva's suite. He knew, too, that there would be no tell-tale fingerprints anywhere as he'd worn gloves to conduct his search for the negatives.

He hailed a taxi half a street away from the hotel, giving M's address to the driver, before he sank back wearily against the seat. It wasn't yet ten o'clock so it was likely she'd still be up, and while he'd originally planned to break in and leave the photos and negatives in her flat, he knew he'd need her help to patch up his arm as he didn't want to risk going to a hospital.

The taxi dropped him off outside M's building and he paid him off, then made his way across to the entrance and rode up in the lift. He patted his pockets, checking that the dagger Silva had used was tucked away in one, and the envelope in another.

007-007-007

M was finishing the last of her nightcap and contemplating the probability of another sleepless night when her doorbell rang. She frowned, wondering who it could be at this time of the night, then got to her feet to investigate. She was startled to find her visitor was James Bond, his right arm cradled against his chest in a way that told her he was injured.

"Bond? What have you been up to now?"

"Can I come in?"

His tone was little short of pleading, so she opened the door wider and gestured him in.

"Thanks." 

"What's wrong with your arm?" she asked.

"Knife wound," he said succinctly.

She shook her head, exasperated. "You'd better come through to the bathroom, then."

She led the way, her head full of questions, none of which she voiced yet. "Sit down." She gestured at the upright wooden chair near the sink, and Bond sank down onto it.

"Who did this to you?" she asked, bending over him and beginning to ease his jacket off. "And what were you thinking, getting into a fight so close to leaving for Japan?"

"I thought I was protecting you," he said, his tone weary.

"What?" She straightened up and stared at him.

"Right hand inside pocket of my jacket," he said.

She frowned, then slipped her hand into his pocket and withdrew an envelope. She dropped his jacket onto the floor and opened the envelope. "Oh Christ, James!" The exclamation was purely involuntary when she saw what she held. He grabbed her with his left hand and she supposed she must have looked as faint as she'd felt.

"It's all right," she said quickly, pulling away from him. "I'm all right." He gave a quick nod, his lips pressed tightly together, and she realised that explanations would have to wait. 

"Let me get this cleaned up," she said, gesturing at his arm.

"Please."

She removed his shirt and dropped it on top of his jacket, then got the First Aid kit out of the bathroom cabinet. "This will sting," she told him and he gave another quick nod, then hissed when she began bathing the dagger wound with antiseptic. She made herself concentrate wholly on her task, forcing herself not to think of the fact that James was sitting here half naked, that he and Silva had met and apparently fought, or of the three friends in the photos he'd brought her.

"You're lucky I've got some butterfly stitches in here," she told James, as she dried off his arm, and tugged the packet out of the First Aid box.

"I didn't want to go to the hospital," he said. "Didn't want anyone putting two and two together later on."

"You did the right thing," she said. She carefully applied the adhesive strips to his arm, pulling the skin closed and taping it in place, then she took out a bandage and wrapped that around his arm.

"That's better." She looked up to give him a smile, and was startled when he pulled her in close and kissed her. Unthinkingly she kissed him back, and heard him growl when her hardening nipples pressed against his bare chest, with only the thin barrier of her silk blouse and bra between them. He pulled her down to sit on his lap and she twisted her fingers into his cropped hair, tugging his head back before biting his lower lip. They kissed hungrily, almost savagely, as he slipped his hand inside her blouse and pinched her nipple. She could feel him growing hard and she moaned, wanting him with a fierce longing.

"I'm not doing this in here, James," she said. "I'm far too bloody old."

He chuckled. "Very well." He loosened his hold on her and she climbed off his lap, then held out a hand. He took it and let her lead him through to her bedroom, where he undressed her with lots of lingering kisses and caresses.

"Silva called you 'a luscious little beauty' earlier," he told her. "He wasn't wrong."

"'Beauty' is a bit of an exaggeration," she said ruefully.

"No, it's not," Bond said insistently. 

She wondered if she was blushing, then pushed the thought aside as she unfastened his trousers and shoved them down off his hips. "Gorgeous," she breathed, taking in the sight of his erect cock.

He caught hold of her and swung her around, then pushed her back onto the bed. "I want you," he told her, his blue eyes dark with lust.

"Likewise," she said, reaching up to pull him down on top of her.

She found him a thoughtful lover, taking the time to make sure she was fully prepared before he tried to penetrate her.

007-007-007

Afterwards, they curled up together and she told him about the photographs, who the other people were, and how they'd come to be on a French beach together. Bond listened in silence, his left hand stroking up and down her side and arm, but she didn't get the sense that he was shocked or disgusted by the revelations – then again, he hadn't exactly got a spotless record himself.

"Did you remain interested in women as well as men?" he asked. 

"To a lesser extent. I always preferred men to women, but sometimes, I don't know – a woman is often less demanding than a man."

"Mmm."

"You'd better tell me how you came by those pictures," she said after a few minutes of silence, "and just how Silva injured you."

"I have to confess to doing something underhand," he said.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and stared into his blue eyes; he looked both ashamed and defiant.

"You broke in here," she said flatly.

"I did. I was worried about you, and I wasn't the only one. Bill and Eve were also very concerned at how stressed you seemed to be. But they know nothing about what I did." He went on to explain finding the answer machine message from Silva, and how he'd tracked him to a hotel in Paddington, and then gone to confront him this evening, and the outcome of that confrontation.

"So now he's dead," M observed. 

"I'm afraid so."

"He didn't just want money from me, you know. He also wanted me to reinstate him – get him back in the Service, and then reinstate him as a Double-0 agent." She sighed. "I suspect the Chinese tortured him while he was imprisoned, which won't have helped his sanity. But he was always skirting the edges. He wasn't just reckless and arrogant, as all you Double-0s are, he was also dangerous – he never worried about who else might get hurt, even on his own side. There was very little spark of humanity in him."

Bond's arms wrapped around her and she felt him kiss the top of her head. "I'm just glad he can't hurt you any more."

She lifted her head. "You're such an old romantic, James," she teased.

He snorted, then proceeded to kiss her very thoroughly, and she succumbed to his desire to have her again, then insisted that they get some sleep.

"You might be able to get away with two or three hours sleep, but I need a little more than that," she told him.

"I thought people slept less, the older they got?" Bond asked.

"Maybe, but I haven't slept properly for two weeks, since first Silva first got in touch."

"Fair enough."

As she started to drift into sleep, M decided she'd have to let Bill Tanner know what had happened so that he could keep an ear open for reports from the police investigation. Her last thought was to wonder whether James would still be there in the morning, or if he'd slip away before she awoke. It might, she thought, be best if he was gone, but she wouldn't mind if he was still there.


End file.
